


Into Me (non-explicit version)

by Rueitae



Series: Next to Me [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Humor, Breeding, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emperor Sendak (Voltron), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Human Experimentation, Implied Sexual Content, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Sexual Humor, Sexual Slavery, and to be perfectly clear, but they are being forced to do so by the bad guys, in the form of one or two bad puns/jokes, the implied sex between Pidge and Lance is consensual, this fic is almost literally all comfort, those two are connected, within 100 words of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/pseuds/Rueitae
Summary: “When we were captured, you asked me never to leave you,” he starts, eyes locked onto their hands before meeting her gaze, determined she know how much he means this. “I don’t want you to leave me alone with Sendak and the Doc, either. Let’s both promise.”Pidge raises an eyebrow, skeptical, before nodding in affirmation. “Okay...I promise - pinky promise,” she amends seriously and lifts the appropriate finger.He slowly shakes his head, gently lowering her pinky and joins that hand with her other - cocooned in his hold. Earth may be lost, but he can’t help but grin like an idiot at what he’s about to pull in the spirit of keeping tradition. “I was thinking something a little deeper than that. Pidge, will you marry me?”~~~~~In this cruel reality, Lance and Pidge create opportunities to make their own choices.
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Series: Next to Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701799
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	Into Me (non-explicit version)

**Author's Note:**

> All plot points from the explicit section are examined in other areas of the fic, so by reading this you won't miss anything plot wise!

“Ye-OW!” Lance yelps as the bandaid is ripped off in one agonizing jerk, sure that it’s torn some skin off. He rubs gently at the already tender area under his armpit that throbs in pain. 

Doctor Azot shows no sympathy as he sticks a needle in Lance’s opposite arm, connected to a canister of quintessence. The galactic material glows a sinister yellow on the table next to the examination bed Lance sits on the edge of. It makes him shiver, no matter how many times the doctor has used this particular ‘medication.’ He’s seen so many people go mad and wonders if the same will happen to him and Pidge one day. Maybe even put them out of their misery.

“You must stop aggravating your guards. The more you must come here for healing, the less time I have to focus on research,” the aged Galra says gruffly. 

Lance winces and not from the soreness. What the doctor tells him is exactly the result he and Pidge had hoped for… because  _ they _ are the research subjects.

Time has passed in a whirl. It’s been a month as far as they can tell since Sendak defeated Voltron, destroyed Earth, and made Lance and Pidge his personal prisoners. Servants, he calls them, because what need is there of prisoners when every living being in the universe is a thrall of the Galra Empire? 

They refuse to forget the Earth calendar, keeping track of time both the way they were raised and universal standard, desperate to hold onto any piece of home even if it no longer exists. Though they’ve had time to both mourn privately and soak in the awful reality of their new situation, the pain still feels fresh. 

Sendak’s plan for them is not limited to isolation in a cell and wallowing in misery. Already Lance has witnessed the surrender of two former Coalition members, and the destruction of three planets for the refusal to do the same. Pidge has seen more, her eyes red with barely held back sobs when the guards return her to their cell, always holding him tightly and crying her eyes out before he can even ask who Sendak killed this time.

He isn’t sure how much more the two of them can take. Each day is emotionally draining, the unlimited water provided to them barely able to quench the thirst after losing much of his body’s volume to tears. He knows he would not have made it this long without Pidge, someone to hold and comfort at the end of the day - and to comfort him. 

Then there is the Doc, adamant about pushing forward with  _ repopulation _ . Sendak enjoys their discomfort over it, evident by the cruel mirth in his eyes as he discusses it as if it’s merely the weather; all while watching the horrifying massacre of entire planets. 

At one point in his life, before Sendak ruined it all, Lance had been looking forward to married life and the unique benefits that came with it, but without any Earth tradition and without so much as a first date or even a first kiss, the idea of being a pair with Pidge by  _ order _ makes him squirm. He can tell she feels the same, each time they accidentally bring it up to each other… she can’t look him in the eye.

It’s not like he has any experience either, despite his loverboy act, just… movies or television shows telling him what it’s  _ supposed _ to look like. His relationship with Pidge hasn’t exactly followed any of that. 

They hold each other closer than ever these days, with gentle kisses of a mostly platonic kind. He often wonders what it would be like to kiss her lips, to feel like a regular couple. He knows why they haven’t, despite Pidge’s long time crush and his own fluttering heart every time he holds her. If they become something in addition to friends, it feels like falling right into Sendak’s hands. 

Their solution is an idea born of a spontaneous action on his part to delay or dissuade Azot from his curiosity. Jump their guards, make them mad, get hurt, take time to heal and watch the doctor’s nose twitch in annoyance as he has to let them rest - needing them to be healthy for, well…sex. All those years in school learning about how the human body functions, knowing what it takes to tango - now when it seems imminent Lance has no idea what to do.

“Look, Doc,” Lance starts, earning a mild glare from the doctor - he detests the nickname but has given up trying to correct his patients. How to address their new physician is one of the few things Lance and Pidge have been able to decide on their own. Even the smallest bit of autonomy feels good on his lips. “As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm for the last of humanity, Pidge and I are barely adults. We aren’t  _ ready _ for this.”

Azot doesn’t even crack a smile, focused on monitoring the amount of quintessence that’s dripping into Lance’s veins. “A standard of a society that no longer exists,” he says not cruelly, but matter of factly. Lance looks away, hating that it barely registers now, how  _ used _ to not having a home planet he’s become in such a short amount of time. “You are more than old enough by Galra standards. If we’re to make even the slightest attempt to repopulate then we must take advantage of the short span of time you have for producing children.”

Lance used to love the thought of being a father, of loving and caring for his own children like Marco and Lisa had with Sylvio and Nadia; it tears his heart just thinking about their lives cut short so suddenly. Now he wants none of it. The idea of subjecting an innocent child to this… he can’t even call it a life, this  _ existence _ , is sickening.

But with Sendak’s interest now, it's inevitable. 

“What’s the  _ point _ ?” he spits, though not quite as harshly as he wants as it turns into more annoyance. “Sendak doesn’t care what happens to us and it’s just more mouths to feed.”

Azot takes the needle out of his arm with a bit more care, reminiscent of the precision and gentleness of nurses at the Garrison. “ _ Emperor _ Sendak has taken a vested interest in the project. You should be grateful; it gives you both something to do with your lives other than assist in persuading the former rebellion to give up their fight. Hold this in place,” he instructs, putting a piece of cloth over the area of Lance’s skin where the needle once was. 

Lance obliges in resignation, holding it absentmindedly with a couple of fingers as Azot wraps bandage cloth around it. He hates that he’s to the point of picking his battles, but if he and Pidge are to ever to escape, lulling Azot into a false sense of security is the first step. They’ve come to see him more often than Sendak. 

“Well,” he starts. Heat rushes to his cheeks for even  _ thinking _ of saying this aloud, but he is running out of options. “I’ve never… done it before. And I’m pretty sure Pidge hasn’t either. We don’t know what we’re doing.” Lance feels sick, very aware of how much he begs.

“Instinct will take over, surely,” Azot says flippantly. The doctor takes up a datapad, eyes on the records he keeps of his patient’s health. “There must be some reason your species survived as long as it did. And it’s quite clear you have an affinity for each other. I’m positive you will be fine.”

“We weren’t - I mean we aren’t  _ together _ -together,” Lance insists, a bit sad at how desperate it must come off. “We’ve been friends for years and we shared a mind,” he taps his head, “in Voltron, but nothing romantic.”

Azot harumps, flicking his gaze to Lance for the briefest moment of acknowledgment. “The two of you were the arms, correct? Your synchronicity should not be a problem.” An awkward moment of silence stagnates the conversation before Azot finally offers, “In Galra culture, the stronger the bond, the healthier the offspring. Use your isolation to that benefit.”

A shiver runs up his spine at his failure to change the doctor’s mind. Azot is the only buffer between them and Sendak, for whatever it’s worth, but for all his bluster and silver tongue, he can’t find the words now. As Azot goes to clean his tools and add notes to Lance’s file on the datapad, Lance slowly begins to put the top of his suit back on, slipping an arm into one sleeve.

“Ah, not so fast. I’m not finished yet,” Azot interrupts. “As long as you’re here I’m checking on how the brand is healing.”

Lance can’t help but groan as he removes his arm from the sleeve and slumps. Azot comes over after finishing his notes and immediately undoes the bandages around his right shoulder. It doesn’t matter how many times he looks, the brand makes him sick—fills him with dread and cements the reality he lives in. 

“Be honest; how much pain are you in?” Azot asks professionally. 

“Fine,” Lance says dully, ready to go about the motions. It  _ is _ feeling much better than last week even. Most of the time he blessedly forgets it's even there. 

“Excellent,” the doctor comments, commending Lance’s cooperation with a pat on the shoulder. Gently he presses against the wound. Lance is used to the poking and prodding by now and for the first time, doesn’t wince at the doctor’s touch. He hates that too. “And now?”

“Fine,” he responds blandly again. “I don’t feel anything.”

The doctor hums. “The skin has healed remarkably well even with a lower dosage of quintessence. Next time you are here I’ll run some blood work again.”

“Tomorrow?” Lance asks, bored. He’s been here almost every day, even days Sendak takes him on those awful field trips to the bridge to demand the surrender of yet another planet. 

“One movement,” Azot responds. Lance perks up. Such a long time without seeing the doctor is… worrisome. A change in routine means danger, fear at what Sendak is planning for his favorite prisoners. 

Azot scowls at Lance’s reaction. “You said neither of you is experienced, correct? I am giving you that time to  _ obtain _ that experience. You’ll have your privacy - but if I do not see any signs of intercourse at the end of the movement, I will  _ have _ to start supervising.” He gives Lance a pointed glare. “Do not make me.”

Lance gapes in horror. It’s too soon. He doesn’t want to have this conversation with Pidge yet. 

“Can’t we wait like, a deca-pheob or something?” he asks desperately. Surely they’ll have escaped by then. “It can’t be that necessary to start now.”

Azot looks him in the eye sternly. “One movement.”

~~~~~

Lance makes no effort to snark with the escort back to the cell, mind swirling with how he’s going to break the news to Pidge while still trying to think of some way around it all. Reaching the thick, bolted door, he lets his arms fall limply to his sides once the guards remove his cuffs and makes no move of resistance, Azot’s threat of  _ observing _ foremost in his mind.

Pidge is looking up at him when the door opens, curled up against the headboard with a purple pillow in her arms - unchanged from where he’d left her. Despite acting as a model prisoner, the guards shove him roughly across the threshold and have the door securely locked before he runs into the full-sized bed they share, falling face-first onto it.

“...Doc visit?” Pidge asks tentatively, quiet and hopeful. When he’d been picked up, the guards hadn’t bothered to tell either of them his destination. He supposes he isn’t crying like after an audience with Sendak, so Pidge is making an educated guess. 

“Clean bill of health,” Lance says sorely. He flips to his back, arms sprawled out and legs hanging off the side of the bed. He’s thankful for an actual bed despite it all. If nightmares weren’t keeping him up at night, the comfort helps him get what sleep he can. Sendak himself hasn’t used physical torture since the branding, but the emotional torture has been taxing enough. 

Pidge sighs with relief. “That’s...good,” she says slowly. 

Lance knows what she means; glad he’s healthy and that he hadn’t been with Sendak, but it means Azot will be getting on their case. 

He needs to break it to her, but he’s terrified over how awkward it’s going to be. As if their lives hadn’t already changed for the worse...regardless of how well either of them take this, their relationship will be forever changed. 

Lance isn’t ready yet.

He scoffs, rolling pathetically to his side, facing her. “Only so I can walk to the bridge and kneel before our oh so benevolent emperor.” 

Though the words come out of his mouth with plenty of sarcasm, they are still difficult to say. To acknowledge Sendak as such means admitting defeat and acceptance of his new life. He regrets them immediately, as Pidge stiffens, her hands shaking against the pillow.

“He’s  _ not _ ,” she growls. “He’s cruel and heartless and p-petty…” Trailing off, she holds the pillow tighter. 

It’s only now he notices the red in her eyes. She’s been crying this morning while he’s been with the Doc.

Lance makes a mental note that sarcasm isn’t the right way to go with jokes right now. Slowly, he gets up and joins her at the head of the bed, lifting the heavy magenta blanket and sliding under the covers next to her, covering their knees with it. As he searches his brain for the right kind of joke to make Pidge better, she falls into his arm and snakes her own around one of his, head falling onto his shoulder. She already forgives him.

”Pidge,” he says, anger on her behalf rising with each inflection, anger that he couldn’t be there for her when she really needed it. “What did he do yesterday?” He hadn’t been up long before Azot called for him, not enough time to let Pidge tell him what happened last night. She’d fallen asleep in grief nearly as soon as he had her in his arms and comfortably under the covers just like this.

Pidge breathes in deep. “I hope he dies, horribly and painfully. And I hope I can be there to see it,” she says hatefully. Scrunching her eyes shut, clearly recalling the painful experience. “He executed rebel leaders in the arena. People I knew by name. Gave me a front-row seat in a packed house.”

Lance slumps into her, resting his face into her hair, exhausted by the never-ending death that surrounds them. Not long ago, her wish for Sendak’s death seemed feasible, but now with no weapons, no friends, backed into a corner under heavy security, it feels like a pipe dream. 

“As long as he plans to keep us alive, maybe you can. I’m so sorry, Pidge,” he finishes empathetically.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she cries, burying her face between her pillow and his arm. “I can’t get their faces out of my mind, all the pity and the hate. W-we  _ failed them _ .”

His brows knit together in frustration, heart aching for her - and for him.“There’s nothing you could have done,” he tries to assure her, the same he’s tried to do for himself.

“I begged him not to. I begged him to kill  _ me _ instead,” she confesses in a harsh whisper, sobs soaking into her words. Lance doesn’t mean to, but he inhales sharply at the prospect of almost having lost Pidge and having to continue on his own. 

“He just  _ laughed _ at me,” she breathes unevenly. “Told me to keep suffering. What more does he want from us?”

Lance holds her close. Gulping, he realizes he has to say something, regardless if Pidge - if  _ he _ \- is ready to hear it or not. “...Doc says he’s interested in the…side project.”

“O-oh.” Pidge manages to hold him even closer, doing her best to reign in her tears. Her eyes flicker to him, their gazes meeting for a moment. In them he sees trepidation, but also sympathy for him and…guilt. 

“I’m not too keen on it either,” he assures her, eyes wandering to the door that acts as more of a portal to their personal hell than a simple throughway. Gulping, he realizes that nothing he can say is right. If he doesn’t want this, that means on some level he’s rejecting Pidge, which he knows isn’t true. It’s that same guilt he sees in her eyes about him. “It-it’s not like I wouldn’t  _ want _ to with you,” he stumbles. “It’s just…”

“I know,” she says so he doesn’t have to continue to put his foot in his mouth. With a shuddering breath she continues, “Th-they probably have video surveillance in here. I’m  _ going _ to find it one of these days.” It feels good to see an expression other than sadness on her face, that determined scowl that allows him to rest easy because she has a plan. 

“ _ We’ll _ find it,” he offers, and shrugs when she looks at him quizzically. “It’s not like I have anything better to do. It’s just a super hard game of hide and seek right?”

Pidge grins at the comparison, but then swiftly frowns. “It’s bad enough they’re forcing us to do this, but being watched…” Her gaze avoids him. “That first day in Doc’s office...I've never felt so… _ vulnerable _ and terrified before.”

Guilt tears up his heart, remembering how his brain had gone blank and his body in awe of her. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight. “I’ll die before I let anyone hurt you,” he swears. There is nothing more he wants to do than to lift her spirits, make her feel like the amazing, brilliant, and beautiful person she is. The words cross his mind and he almost doesn’t say them but…they are running out of time, and Pidge deserves all the love he can give her. 

He sighs, eyes fixated on his fingers that twiddle with the covers. “And if it counts for anything…I think you’re beautiful,” he says sincerely. 

Lance considers it a win when she continues to cling to him. “Y-you’re not too bad looking yourself,” she stammers. In the same way her sharp mind and tongue light a fire in his belly, the few times she sounds uncertain are adorable…and more than that, make him feel needed. The part of his arm where her cheeks lie feels much warmer, indicative of a blush on her part. 

“Well,” Lance says, wanting to get the one up on the flirting, “you make my floppy disk turn into a hard drive.” Literally, she literally had done so that awful day in the lab. Lance still isn’t proud of it, but if it helps set them both at ease with a laugh, he’ll use it. 

Pidge shivers, but a smile does break on her face. “That is so old school.”

“Sorry,” he says with a kiss to the top of her head. “Sex jokes probably aren’t the best idea right now.”

“No, it’s a good idea, I’d rather laugh at dumb jokes,” Pidge says quickly. She heaves a heavy sign into the pillow in her arms. “I wish we could have an actual date first though, not just food goo that tastes like raisins.” 

Lance bursts out laughing and Pidge quickly follows suit. They laugh and laugh, until Lance’s face hurts from smiling and they fall into a tenuous silence.

“Pidge, we need to talk about this,” he forces himself to say. “Sendak isn’t going to let us get out of this...and neither is Doc. He told me today we have to start within the movement. He’s…guaranteed that we won’t have any interruptions.”

She lifts her head to face him, still clinging to his arm. “So soon?”

Lance nods. “I tried to talk him out of it.”

“I know you did,” she assures him gently. Guilt in her eyes, she looks down, “Your arm…”

“Can’t even tell it was broken at all,” he says. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat if you wanted me to.”

“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “I…it’s not worth you getting hurt. I couldn’t live with that. We’re bad enough off as it is.”

It’s quiet for a long second, before Lance says, “So…now what?”

Pidge takes in a deep breath. “I guess we do what they want.”

Lance feels his eyes bug out. “You’re s-sure?”

“If you’re ready,” she says quietly, almost nervously, fiddling with the pillow cover. “M-maybe it won’t matter anyway. One of us could be infertile for all we know.”

A tiny drop of disappointment pools in his heart, which he immediately feels awful for. He’s idolized the idea of being a father for so long the idea of not being able to hurts. Yet…to bring a child into this situation...he can’t help but override his emotions and agree with Pidge. 

The pillow falls to the side, Pidge gripping the edges of the blanket instead. “The sooner we start and get our nerves behind us the safer I know I’ll feel.”

Lance nods, his own nerves building and twisting around in his gut. “I’ve never done this before.”

Pidge gives him half a smile. “Neither have I… but I’m glad it's with you.”

They may have lost everything, including the bond they felt through Voltron, but in that moment Lance feels as though they have something just as strong. He wants to survive and see Pidge through this awful mess. He needs to see her smile, wants to make her happy among all the hurt and pain. 

He will do so for the rest of his life, wherever that may lead. Shifting to face her fully, he takes one of her hands in both of his. 

“When we were captured, you asked me never to leave you,” he starts, eyes locked onto their hands before meeting her gaze, determined she know how much he means this. “I don’t want you to leave me alone with Sendak and the Doc, either. Let’s  _ both _ promise.”

Pidge raises an eyebrow, skeptical, before nodding in affirmation. “Okay...I promise - pinky promise,” she amends seriously and lifts the appropriate finger.

He slowly shakes his head, gently lowering her pinky and joins that hand with her other - cocooned in his hold. Earth may be lost, but he can’t help but grin like an idiot at what he’s about to pull in the spirit of keeping tradition. “I was thinking something a little deeper than that. Pidge, will you marry me?”

In all the years Lance has known her, he has painstakingly been working towards the day when he will undeniably catch Pidge off guard and take her by surprise. From her facial expression alone Lance knows he’s finally done it.

“Wh-what?” she stammers, flustered more than he ever dared hope for. “We can’t get married; we’re in prison - a Galra prison.” Her gaze darts around the barren room, as if looking for the altar. “Maybe when we get out but--”

Lance ducks down and kisses her before she can finish, the light tap of his lips against her own sends his heart pumping of thrill and Pidge into silence, her mouth preoccupied. It’s soft and gentle, kind and soothing, just as he’d always hoped his first real kiss would be. When Lance pulls away, Pidge is back to the calm, rational girl he’s come to know. The blush on her cheeks is the only indication of anything different. 

Her mouth is small, off to the side. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” she wonders quietly.

“We get to make our own rules now.” It’s a fact, though his heart falls just as Pidge’s face does as he says it. “There may be a day where we don’t have a choice,” Lance gulps, gut clenching at the thought of the absolute power Sendak has over them right now, “but until then I’ll stay alive for my teammate and my wife, if you’ll have me.”

Pidge takes a shuddering breath, tears pricking behind her gaze that doesn’t leave him. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t think about what that would mean for you; I’m just so sick of watching Sendak murder.”

He hugs her. She hasn’t said yes, but he hugs her anyway. “I get it, Pidge. It’s selfish of me to want you here, but I’m terrified to do this alone.”

She digs her fingers into the cloth on his back, pulling close. “If you’re selfish then so am I,” she whispers. “I’m going to need your help to escape this hell hole, and to survive it.”

A short chuckle sneaks past his lips as he rests his head against the side of hers. “So you do?”

Pidge pulls apart and gives him a kiss, their lips meeting once more. “Yes,” she says with a smile. “Yes, I do.”

Lance takes her hands into his once more. “You are my friend and teammate, the shield that grounds me. I swear I will be the same for you, love and cherish you,” he frowns, almost debating not to say the next part considering what they’ve just promised, but it’s still out of their control the same as before, so he adds, “now and until death parts us.” 

It isn’t even close to the traditional vows, but the words feel right. 

Maybe she’s thinking of her family who isn’t here, what it would be like to be saying these words in a chapel or on a beach like he is, rather than this dark prison cell. Pidge’s eyes glisten with tears as she opens her mouth. “I swear I’ll do that and more. You’ve kept me as safe as you can all this time, followed my crazy ideas, laughed with me,  _ trusted _ me.” She squeezes his hand. “I promise to love you, cherish you, and stay by your side u-,” the small smile she had turns into a frown, “until death parts us.”

His heart feels as though it wants to burst. The love he feels from her words penetrates deep from the way she so earnestly says them. Despite having said his piece first, he has an inexplicable need to affirm her response, grateful in the knowledge that Pidge won’t throw her life away needlessly and leave him here. His eyes find that the end of the pillow cover is frayed. In one quick motion, he rips it off. Then he takes Pidge’s hand once more and ties the string around her ring finger.

“Lance…” she says softly. 

“Proof I mean it,” he says, because he can’t remember the exact words off the top of his head, the meaning of them will have to do. “Even if we weren’t in this situation I… I would have been honored to take you on a first date a-and maybe even marry you properly one day.”

The pool of golden brown in her eyes swirls with affection, fixated on him. She rises to her knees, placing a hand on his shoulder. Lance meets her halfway, instinctively turning his head ever so slightly so that his lips lock in place with her own. Instantly, all tension melts away when Pidge doesn’t pull back right away, simply keeping her lips pressed against his as she tenderly cups his cheek. 

His fingers drift lightly over her arm moments later as she pulls away, resting on her heels. He’s delighted to see her smile back as she takes a deep breath. “Thank you, Lance.” For the company, being her friend, the understanding, and the thoughtfulness of the makeshift ceremony.

Lance chuckles, refusing to feel bad about never being open to being romantic with Pidge before. That was past Lance. Current Lance is just happy he’s with his friend. It also gives him a high, knowing he’s still got it, able to use such a simple thing as a kiss to make her happy. 

“I still have the good old loverboy Lance in me. Sendak and Doc haven’t sucked my soul out yet,” he says with a wink, before his face relaxes into an easy smile. “That’s gonna be half the battle.” He leans down and presses a kiss onto her forehead. “So you keep being brilliant and curious and  _ punny _ .”

The wide grin that breaks out on Pidge’s face makes his heart flutter. “I didn’t think you liked puns?” she says excitedly. “Or is it only when you flirt?”

He shrugs. “I learned English and Spanish at the same time growing up; sometimes it takes a while for a pun to get through my head,” he says, tapping his head for emphasis. “But I love watching you get all smug over them. It’s…”  _ hot _ “a _ dork _ able.”

Pidge laughs, throwing her head back and landing on the other pillow, her back bouncing on the mattress. “That’s not a bad one for someone who doesn’t pun often.” She grins, that lovely confident one he’s missed. “We’ll get you to be a pun master someday.”

Lance snorts. “I may not be good with puns yet,” he grins wickedly, thrilled over his next planned move. “But I am pretty good at tickling.”

“What?” Pidge squawks, which quickly turns to uninhibited laughter as he sticks his arms under her armpit. “I’m not ticklish!” she yelps, all while giggling.

“No secrets, Pidge!” he teases mercilessly, bending down and giving her a raspberry on her cheek. Pidge scrunches her body up but continues to giggle. 

“You’re the worst, Lance!” she says between hurried breaths. Quickly turning, she manages to slip fingers around his neck. He shuts his eyes and laughs, the sensation almost overbearing as he squeezes his head and shoulder together to find relief, the momentum carrying him to land on the bed next to Pidge who hasn’t stopped laughing. 

The mirth and comfort in just being a kid again almost makes Lance forget where he is. The sound of locks disengaging quickly brings him back to reality. 

The laughter ceases as he and Pidge separate, sharing a worried look. It isn’t time for the evening meal. 

Yet it's the meal cart, a bag of food goo for Pidge on the bottom and one for Lance on the top of the two-tiered apparatus. One of the two guards that are always stationed in front of their door wheels it in, a scowl on his face. 

“A supplementary snack from the doctor. Eat it now.” 

The impatience with which the guard speaks moves Lance to action. Seeing as how the change in routine is nothing dangerous, he walks over and retrieves both packets, handing Pidge her own. 

“Nice of him,” Lance says glumly as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Wonder what flavor of tire this one tastes like.”

The guard doesn’t move, crossing his arms impatiently. Lance sighs. No time to savor it. 

Pidge has already opened her’s and taken a slurp. She tries not to show her distaste for it, to spare him the first bite, but her gag reflex kicks in soon after and she barely manages to swallow. “We need to talk to him about the taste.”

Lance rips his packet open and dumps as much of the packet in his mouth as possible, plugging his nose in the hopes that it won’t be that bad. It’s nearly tasteless this way, until it’s all in his stomach and the aftertaste is like having wet tissue stuck in his mouth. Reaching back over to the cart, he grabs one of the many water pouches and downs it. “Bleh,” he moans.

Pidge is quickly by his side, slurping on one of her own. Water is about the only tasteful thing they have to consume so he doesn’t blame her when she hums in relief and slumps to the floor, content as her shoulder rests on the side of the bed. 

More than the horrible food, it’s the smug look on their guard’s face as he takes their empty pouches that makes Lance’s stomach churn. “Pathetic,” the guard says before leaving and locking the door behind him. 

Worst of all, he’s right. They must take whatever they’re given. Be escorted everywhere. The only choices available to them are what to do within their cell between Sendak’s cruelty and the appointments with Doc. 

“What are we, Pidge?” Lance asks, looking aimlessly at the door. “Prisoners.” The memory of Sendak showing the leader of Telandris a view of him, the former Red Paladin, cuffed and made to kneel before the Emperor of the known universe flashes across his mind. “Slaves, experiments.” Azot telling them to mate without caring for their feelings. “Or pets.” Lance shivers, the weight of his collar suddenly more noticable and the fresh realization of having to take whatever food they are given taking on a whole new meaning.

Pidge slides onto the bed next to him, her shoulder against his. “We’re friends,” she says. “We’re still Paladins. And now,” her mouth twitches in a smile as she looks up at him, showing him the thread on her finger. “We’re husband and wife, right?”

Like a weight lifted off his shoulders, he hugs her tight. He needed to hear that so much. “Thank you.”

She hugs him back, then a moment later squeezes tighter. “Let’s take advantage of it,” she says.

“Right to home plate huh?” Lance laughs curtly, slumping his shoulders. “We barely made it to first.”

“Our first date was at the space mall,” Pidge supplies, grinning. “I can’t think of a better alternative.”

The wheels in his mind turn, thinking back to that fantastically fun day of searching for coins in a fountain and shopping at an Earth store. He’d had the time of his life with Pidge that day, her smile even then made him feel as though he were at the top of the universe because he helped her buy that sparkly new game system. The hours they logged together in that game flashes through his mind, along with the silly laughter and the triumphant defeats of the hardest levels. 

Then his mind goes back further, to the day he asked her if she was on the Garrison rooftop to rock out. And rocked out they had, starting this forsaken adventure together. 

Even though it ended in tears and heartbreak, he can’t find himself ever not making the same decision with Pidge to go through that wormhole. 

And maybe it wasn’t over yet. Their friends may be gone and their allies dwindling, but they are still Paladins of Voltron, symbols of freedom to the universe. One day they’ll escape and they’ll still have each other. 

Sendak won’t know what hit him.

But for now, they must play along, and at least they have each other.

“The space mall wasn’t our first,” he tells her. “We had a group date with our friends. We rescued Shiro and found the Blue Lion.”

Pidge smiles with a warmth he recognizes in his own heart as he reminisces on their journey up until this point. “Yeah, you’re right. I was so flustered when your lips were so close to my face.”

Lance can’t help but smirk and lean in, whispering in her ear. “Like this, you mean.”

She giggles and clings closer. “I hate being ticklish,” she admits, snuggling her head into his arm and sighs lightly. “We’ve had tons of dates and now we’re married.”

Lance nods, realizing she’s right. He holds her hand tight. They’re human, and they both need that reminder right now. “Imagine it’s our honeymoon,” he offers. 

Pidge takes a deep breath, as if building herself up. She takes his worldbuilding and runs with it, gazing at him in fondness. “Yeah. We’re in our hotel, settled in for the night. The windows are all closed for privacy, but the beach is just steps away from the patio.”

The image works. His heart bubbles up with warmth and when he closes his eyes he can see it all. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Lance reminds her with a half laugh.

“Neither do I,” she admits, then she smirks, lighting his heart on fire. “Just… use your instincts Red Paladin.”

“My instincts say to kiss your genius face,” he says teasingly, and does so. 

~~~~~~

Lance falls heavy onto his side next to Pidge, catching his breath. Pidge does the same, her eyes closed.

Though she nestles closer to him, forehead touching his. 

“We… we did it,” she says, flipping to her side and facing him. 

Lance soaks in the affection, entwining his fingers around hers. Piercing the silence, the steady pounding of boots as their guards do their hourly rounds, reminding him of their tenuous privacy. 

“We did,” he echoes. At the very least it isn’t meal time and the guards won’t be walking in on them anytime soon. So he snuggles closer to his wife, snaking an arm around her shoulder and letting his face rest in her thick hair, basking in the afterglow of intimacy. 

“Thanks for remembering to um...” Pidge says after a few minutes, a blush on her face. She coughs, clearing her throat. “N-not that i would have minded, it’s just with the whole…”

“We’ll stall as long as we can,” he finishes. “Maybe we can even get away with me doing that all the time so we don’t have to worry so much about, um,” he swallows hard, “getting pregnant.”

“I hope we don’t,” she breathes into his neck. “I hope none of my eggs are viable and we escape and find a way to take Sendak and his empire down.”

He strains his neck ever so slightly to press a kiss to the top of her head. “We’re going to fight him every step of the way,” he promises. “What we just did was for us, not for him. Everything  _ extra _ we do - every hug - that’s  _ our _ choice.”

Pidge relaxes, her sigh of contentment giving him a peace of mind that she really and truly feels safe with him. “Every kiss is ours too.” She follows her words with the action, lips sweeter than honey in comparison to their regular meals. 

“And I’ll give you as many hugs and kisses as you want,” he says softly, pulling her closer. Everything Lance ever expected out of sex was that it would be the most amazing thing ever. It was pretty cool, he had to admit, but far and away holding Pidge close to him like this is his favorite part. 

“We really should get dressed,” she says after a few long moments, though her tone betrays her true desire to remain exactly where she is. 

“Just a little bit longer,” Lance murmurs into her hair. “The beachhouse doesn’t serve breakfast for another hour. We have plenty of time.”

“You’re right,” Pidge agrees, playing along with their preconceived honeymoon fantasy. “A few more minutes won’t hurt.”

What was a few more minutes when they had nothing but each other to look forward to each day. 

A soft shiver leaves Pidge’s breath. Lance pulls the edge of the blanket tighter around her shoulders, tucking it under her side to keep the cold air of the ship at bay from her bare body. Having clothes on would be warmer but…the moment they don them is the moment they go back to being prisoners. 

Lance’s mind wanders, as it is prone to do, to anything other than this barren existence they have with each other. Thoughts are filled with wedding celebrations both after the ceremony and at work - the Garrison of course, where Lance flies the newest model fighters that Pidge designs, often flying in formation with her when she wants to test the controls for herself.

“If you could have any job in the world,” he starts, absentmindedly playing with the hair at the back of her head, “what would it be? Would you be a pilot?”

He can feel her face against his neck, scrunched up in confusion. “I guess? When we get out of here and find other rebels, it wouldn’t really be the best use of my talents. I’ll have to keep an eye on the tech.”

“No, I don’t mean now, or the future,” Lance says, unsure about his idea now. “I mean… if we still had Earth. If we never found Voltron… what do you think you’d be doing… would we have even met?”

“Eventually,” Pidge says frankly. “I’d have gone to flight school. Would be a year behind you and Hunk.”

A smile creeps up Lance’s face, feeling content as he begins to imagine what their life would be like without this mess. “You would have been the cute, spunky first year. I would have asked you out, offered to teach you some flight tips.”

Pidge laughs abruptly and his mission is a success. “I would have hated you.”

“You’d have given into my charms eventually,” he teases, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’d have figured out how much you love puns. And the more you resist me, the more intriguing I find you.”

It takes a moment before Pidge calms from her giggles, but she continues the story, “Without Dad and Matt missing, I would have had more fun. When not in classes I’ll be in the commons room playing Killbot Melee. Hunk would have been nosy enough to find me and you wouldn’t be able to keep yourself away.”

Lance hums contentedly. “Eventually you see my skill and grant me player one privileges.”

“In your dreams, Tailor,” she teases. Weakly, she pushes off his chest and lies on her back. Despite the jest, her hand finds his, their fingers intertwining in a slow and deliberate way. “Or should I say Mr. Holt?”

Lance knows he isn’t mistaken that she squeezes, because he feels just as desperate for the physical confirmation that they are in this together.

“Not a bad ring to it,” he humors her. “But I think going hyphenated is a better one.” Humming, he makes a show of fantasizing about it, placing a hand under his chin as his smile goes smug. “Mr. Holt-AH!”

A shiver rolls up his arms when Pidge kisses his chest. She giggles in victory. “It sounds like a nice way to meet you,” Pidge then offers, a sad smile on her face. 

Lance leans in, his feelings mirroring her smile. It may be no good to dwell on what-ifs in their situation, perhaps it will only make their hearts long for something they can never have. On the other hand, they have more time than either of them knows what to do with. Lance prefers to dwell on happier thoughts for as long as they can.

“It makes for sweet dreams, at least.” Lifting his arm carefully out from under the covers, he cups Pidge’s cheek and presses down the few inches he has left, locking his lips with hers. 

There is no need to dream right now when he has Pidge in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://rueitae.tumblr.com/). Please leave a comment about what you liked! I'm anxious to hear!


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